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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28990746">You of little faith, conform</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwNN/pseuds/AwNN'>AwNN</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety Attacks, Crisis of Faith, Dubious Consent, I mean I'm gonna catch up someday, Kinktober 2020, Loss of Faith, M/M, Teasing, Tentacle Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:02:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,757</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28990746</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwNN/pseuds/AwNN</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my way of catching up with kinktober. It will not be a regular thing, but I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless. </p>
<p>1. Teasing - Caduceus Clay finds himself an object of Uk'otoa's intense fixation. Uk'otoa is going to take Melora's best as an act of revenge for stealing Fjord. (Dubious consent; almost a jerk-off. Caduceus has an ongoing crisis.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Caduceus Clay &amp; The Mighty Nein, Caduceus Clay/Uk'otoa, Fjord/Uk'otoa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You of little faith, conform</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I am not familiar with the CR's plot. I'm on episode 29 and simultaneously at episode 121 with a huge gap in-between that I occasionally fill in with random YT videos. You can spoil the plot in the comments, though, I do not mind. </p>
<p>Let me know if I did Caduceus' character justice. (Except the 'asexual part' that I am ignoring as it is a kinkmeme fic.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kinktober 2020 catch-up</p>
<p>Caduceus Clay/Uk’otoa</p>
<ol>
<li>Teasing</li>
</ol>
<p> </p>
<p>One day, Uk’otoa frees himself and turns into a full-fledged god. Not an imitation, not a false deity or a lesser idol, but a being powerful enough to deserve his place among the pantheon, equal in his dominion to The Cloaked Serpent, the Spider Queen, or even the Crawling King.</p>
<p>Uk’otoa frees himself from the seals that had held him captive for centuries and he rises above his station as if carried by the waves themselves. He takes ownership of the oceans and there’s no one there to contest his claims, no one there to challenge him to a fight.</p>
<p>The open waters belong to him, the Great Leviathan.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>It starts slowly, inconspicuously.</p>
<p>Caduceus wakes up one morning, happy to feel the gentle rays of sunshine on his face, enjoying the spring in the air and the blessings of Wildmother outside of the Inn the Mighty Nein are staying for the night. He stretches on his bed, gives sleeping Fjord a fond look, and begins his day as any other day before – with a prayer.</p>
<p>He puts his bare feet on the floor, feels the old, wooden planks beneath his heels, and centers his stance. He stretches up, up – fingers almost touching the high ceiling, and breathes in, deeply, lovingly. He closes his eyes with the exhale and lowers his arms, lets his limbs relax at his sides.</p>
<p>He feels magic and life flow within him as he bends down, feels his spine realign itself, and holds the position for a few long minutes, each breath an offering to his Goddess, each inhale and exhale meant as a show of gratitude for the abundance of Her blessings. For Her presence in this moment, in every moment of Caduceus’ life.</p>
<p>He closes his eyes and thinks of Melora, prays to Her, thanks Her for another day – and she’s there, but before Caduceus can reorient himself in the moment, his nose twitches, the fur on his back stands up, as if roused by a chilling wind he doesn’t feel.</p>
<p>His connection with the Wildmother is still there, he can feel her presence as he always could, but there’s something else there, too. Something cold and elusive and every time Caduceus’ thoughts wander towards this presence, he finds himself distracted – from both Melora and the newcomer. The silent observer.</p>
<p>He asks the Wildmother about the new presence but she doesn’t answer. She keeps caressing his body with her gentle magic, wrapping him in a motherly hug, so Caduceus ignores the creeping coldness and puts it out of his mind.</p>
<p>He forgets about the presence completely, during the next week.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>‘We have almost half a plan,’ Beauregard has said, slightly sheepish, not even two hours ago and Caduceus already regrets acquiescing to go and ‘<em>take care of the spiders’. </em>As far as Mighty Nein’s plans go, this one manages to extend the boundaries of what’s usually a major fuck up in their dictionary.</p>
<p>Caduceus has used every single healing spell that Melora bestowed upon him for the day and is reduced to kneel over bleeding out Caleb and pressing his hands to the would in his side in a futile hope to stop the blood from flowing out. His fur is wet with sweat and matted with the slime of the underground sewers they’re in and he feels his eyes prickle with tears of frustration, of helplessness.</p>
<p>“Melora, Wildmother, please, please, please,” he whispers, bending over his friend and trying, in vain, to find enough energy within himself to heal the mage. Yet, even as his eyes cloud with the blackness of exhaustion, as his head throbs with dull pain, there’s nothing, nothing he can do to preserve this one life.</p>
<p>“I’ll do anything you want, Mother,” he pleads, voice breaking, when he realizes she’ll not answer him. He has been greedy in his requests, too reckless in sharing her gifts with others and there’s nothing much she can grant him, sans her gentle, comforting presence.</p>
<p>So, Caduceus closes his eyes, lets the tears fall, and stays, embraced, with his Wildmother.</p>
<p>He feels the foreign, cold presence then.</p>
<p>The cool chill that runs up his spine, makes his fur stand up and his body shiver, unconsciously. There’s a whisper there, too. A promise. An offer.</p>
<p>The Wildmother notices the entity, too, and disapproves. Holds tightly to Caduceus, but Caduceus looks at Caleb, as his friend, whom he cannot help without aid from a God, at the paling lips of the mage, at the blood pooling around them and he thinks:</p>
<p>‘<em>Please.’ </em></p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Caduceus doesn’t tell anyone that the Wildmother cried when Caleb’s wound filled with saltwater and seaweeds when Caduceus’ pink hair became wet and tangled – he keeps this to himself, his shameful, terrifying secret.</p>
<p>It keeps him up at night.</p>
<p>He turns in his bed until late or only pretends to be asleep when Fjord sends him concerned glances.</p>
<p>Yet, no matter what he does, how he prays, how he meditates, every time he connects to Melora, Uk’otoa is there, too.</p>
<p>Waiting.</p>
<p>Observing.</p>
<p>
  <em>Seducing. </em>
</p>
<p>*</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It keeps happening, again and again, and again. The Leviathan Lord aids him in his worst moments of need.</p>
<p>One time, Caduceus himself is struck down by an enemy too strong for even Mighty Nein to handle and he feels Wildmother’s embrace, welcoming him into death. But Jester is crying over his barely conscious figure, pleading with him and with the Traveler and – the rest of the Nein are breaking apart, hurting.</p>
<p>Caduceus doesn’t want to die. He wants to keep on living, experiencing the world, helping people he loves.</p>
<p>Wildmother cannot help him, but Uk’otoa can.</p>
<p>Caduceus’ lungs fill with warm saltwater and he drowns, but he lives, too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Fjord notices, of course, and confronts him about it the same evening. They fall asleep cuddled together, desperate, terrified tears drying on their faces.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fjord sticks closer to him, after that day; he promises to protect Caduceus and the Nein with all his might, with all the grace the Wildmother bestows upon him and for a few weeks, it works.</p>
<p>Caduceus mediates and prays in every moment he can spare; he keeps talking to Melora, deathly afraid of losing his connection to her. Shivering with fear every time he feels a cold breath on the nape of his neck.</p>
<p>The rest of the Nein worry, but none of them can offer any real help, besides moral support.</p>
<p>Beau introduces him to more advanced yoga and they turn the exercise into a prayer. Caleb offers his silent presence in the evenings, never letting Caduceus go alone for longer than a minute or two. Nott keeps leaving him stolen samples of plants and pottery to plant them into.</p>
<p>Out of all of them, though, it’s Yasha and Jester that give him the most hope, praying to their own gods in his name.</p>
<p>He hopes, every day more desperate, that it will work.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*</p>
<p>It doesn’t work. The next job they take on is, at least on paper, easy enough to dismiss it as a regular service of ‘ridding the town of bandits’ – something so beneath the Mighty Nein as they are now, they get overconfident. They forget, too easily, how they lost Molly; how the lack of knowledge was their undoing.</p>
<p>They don’t lose Caduceus only because the cleric yells a desperate <em>help! </em></p>
<p>A prayer meant not for the Wildmother, but for Uk’otoa.</p>
<p>And the Great Leviathan, the Lord of the Saltwaters, delivers.</p>
<p>Before a spell can hit Caduceus and Caleb, before any real damage is done, the reality shifts and the blast of orange, magical energy dissipates in humid air, stopped by two dark, long tentacles that seem to have grown from the earth.</p>
<p>‘<em>YES’ </em> </p>
<p>Caduceus falls to his knees, keening as if mortally wounded, as he hears Uk’otoa in his head.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>“Duce, you need to sleep at some point,” Jester says and it pains him to hear her voice so different from the usual cheer and optimism. She’s careful with him as if he was a wild, wounded creature, ready to strike at any hint of danger. And perhaps, after the past months, he’s closer to being that rather than Caduceus, the Wildmother’s chosen cleric.</p>
<p>He doesn’t feel deserving of his humanity, not when he feels so trapped, so desperate.</p>
<p>“I, ah, I cannot,” he manages to say, though he only keeps his eyes open due to the tea he’s drinking – the third pot, today. He hasn’t slept in seventy hours and he knows, deep down, that he’s going stubbornly against Melora’s teachings, that he’s forcing his body through unnatural trials, but he <em>can’t fall asleep. </em></p>
<p>“He’s in my head, Jester, waiting,” he says then, voice unusually somber. There’s no energy left in him for pretending that he’s not scared shitless, helpless in the face of the unknown danger. He doesn’t know how to escape this.</p>
<p>Doesn’t know how to hide within the Wildmother, not when he <em>chose </em>to call on Uk’otoa.</p>
<p>“Okay, okay, okay,” Jester frets over him, hands hovering over his shoulders, hesitant to touch but so sweetly eager. “It’s going to be fine, Duce, you know? The Traveler always protects me and the Wildmother loves you as much as you love her. She’ll be with you when you’re asleep. To protect you!”</p>
<p>“We can always kick his ass!” Beauregard mutters under her breath, though they all know it’s not even in the realm of possibility. Not when they’ve been reminded of their fleeting mortality so recently.</p>
<p>Caleb snorts, but the way in which he hides his head in his shoulders, he way his hands twitch and instinctually reach for Nott betray just how worried he is.</p>
<p>“What?” Beau says, defensive. “We could totally get strong enough to kill a God.”</p>
<p>They know the tales of the adventures from Tal’dorei. Know that it’s possible for mortals to achieve such heights – but they are, really, just a ragtag group of people who stay together because it’s safer to pretend that you know what you’re doing and that you’re not afraid when there’s a group of the likewise inclined individuals around you.</p>
<p>They aren’t heroes.</p>
<p>“Here,” Yasha moves from the corner of the room, approaches Caduceus and puts a small token in his hand. It’s a dried flower, white heather, for protection. Caduceus leans towards her, presses his forehead against her midsection and lets out a quiet, scared hum. She pats his head, pulls gently at his hair and allows him to have his moment.</p>
<p>His one last prayer.</p>
<p>“We’ll stay with you,” Fjord says, voice pained. He hasn’t stepped away from Caduceus since the last fight, since Uk’otoa’s tentacles intervened. “You’ll not wake up alone, Cad.”</p>
<p>“We’ll all stay up and watch over you and pray to our gods, so you’re going to be okay!” Jester chimes in, a feeble smile on her young face. She scoots over to him on the bed and takes one of his hands in hers.</p>
<p>Fjord does the same, on the other side of him and Caduceus takes a heavy, shuddering breath.</p>
<p>He’s surrounded by family, bent slightly over, leaning against Yasha, holding hands with Fjord and Jester. With Caleb at the doors, watchful and silent in his support and Nott, next to him, drinking in honest worry.</p>
<p>Beauregard moves to sit behind him, back-to-back.</p>
<p>“If it comes after you, I’m punching it.”</p>
<p>Caduceus falls asleep crying.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*</p>
<p>The place he’s in isn’t even remotely like the garden the Wildmother meets him in – he feels like he’s underwater, he feels wet and cold and he’s sure he’s floating, his hair flowing around him, but it doesn’t feel like water, either. It doesn’t feel like the ocean nor even a particularly deep lake.</p>
<p>It feels like a void.</p>
<p>And there’s a big, yellow eye, trained on him.</p>
<p>Caduceus doesn’t have it in him to pretend that he’s strong and unafraid; ready to stand up to a monster and yearning for reckless, glorious victory. The Wildmother’s gentle touches can’t reach him here, there’s only the water-like void and the eye. Uk’otoa.</p>
<p>‘<em>MINE’ </em></p>
<p>The word revibrates through the space, through Caduceus himself, making him quiver in fear. He’s crying openly, tears falling down his cheeks, body wracked by sobs. He curls into a tight ball, wraps his trembling arms around his legs and his tail around his waist.</p>
<p>Yet, he cannot find it in himself to deny the claim.</p>
<p>‘<em>MINE’ </em></p>
<p>Uk’otoa demands and Caduceus weeps, knowing that he’ll call on the Great Leviathan again, when his friends will need his protection.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*</p>
<p>“It’s a nice place to stay,” Jester says, hands on her waist, head up, ready to face the world as if she sees it through pink glasses. “We could definitely make it work. It just needs a few finishing touches, right? Like, like, Yasha could plant some flowers under the windows and you could have a garden, even! And if we kill like, some bandits, we could bury them over there and you could grow some dead people tea, too!”</p>
<p>Caduceus forces himself to smile, as he looks at his friend. She’s putting so much energy into being cheerful, into keeping the team together. Yet, he can’t make his expressions honest. His smiles are a mockery of what they used to be, his hands tremble when he makes his teas and if he’s left alone for more than a couple of minutes, his mind drifts off, circles back to Uk’otoa. To the dread that fills his bones.</p>
<p>But he nods, nonetheless, because his friends are doing this for him, are settling down, hoping to help. If Caduceus was being forced to call on Uk’otoa because the Nein were getting hurt, then staying in one place for a while, safe, should solve the problem, right? Right?</p>
<p>Caduceus couldn’t tell them how beautiful of a lie they’ve woven.</p>
<p>“And there’s enough space for a small bookshelf for Caleb and Nott could sleep in a hammock in that left corner,” Jester points towards something in the small, wooden cabin that they’ve purchased just yesterday and does a little happy dance, jumping from one leg to another, tail swishing. “Fjord and I can take the bed, definitely!”</p>
<p>“We’re far from the ocean,” Caleb says quietly, getting Caduceus’ attention. “Even if he speaks to you, his control shouldn’t be strong. He couldn’t keep Fjord, after all.”</p>
<p>Caduceus doesn’t explain that Fjord wanted Uk’otoa gone, that he desperately wanted to be free, to find solace in the Wildmother. Doesn’t dare to say out loud, that the Wildmother can no longer give Caduceus what he needs – power. Power to keep his friends alive.</p>
<p>“She might start speaking with you again,” Caleb says, his voice strained a bit as he tries to show his more delicate, caring side. The very same one that made him stay up late, researching ways of cutting off a God for the last week.</p>
<p>“She won’t,” Caduceus manages to say and the tears fall again. He’s surprised, to be honest, by how much he can cry. He thought that surely, by now, all of his tears would have dried out, leaving him an empty husk. Yet, everything is fresh, raw and hurting. He feels as if his very soul was tearing at the seams. And the knowledge that it’s all <em>his fault </em>is crushing.</p>
<p>“She won’t, but it’s very kind of you, Mr. Caleb, to know you have hope, still.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*</p>
<p>They have settled in nicely, made the wooden cabin and its surroundings <em>theirs. </em>Yasha did plant the flowers and they did, in fact, bury the first bandits that dared to try and rob them under a rather lovely oak tree. Caduceus, despite his delicate state, did find himself looking forward to the new kind of tea that would surely grow out of the freshly made graves.</p>
<p>Something about burying bodies, giving the flesh back to the earth, was familiar enough to give Caduceus just enough hope to start functioning again.</p>
<p>That’s why he’s out, in the middle of the night, kneeling in the forest clearing and praying to Melora once more. He’s calm, this time, and determined to see this through. To reconnect with his Goddess, with his <em>Mother. </em>He’s her unfaithful son, he knows, but he wishes to repent, to mend the bridges that his greediness has burned.</p>
<p>He sits, cross-legged on the ground, feels the grass under his palms, the wind in his fur, the light of the moon on his face – and he prays. He whispers silent pleas into the night, lets his soft voice carry them to his patron. And for one, precious moment, he feels her warm embrace, her delicate, loving hands caressing his cheeks, her plump lips placing a kiss on his forehead.</p>
<p>He’s in her garden, surrounded by life itself and then—</p>
<p>Then he remembers Caleb, almost bleeding out. And Jester, so broken when Caduceus had almost died. And Fjord with an arrow in his throat. And Beau, bloody and beaten. And Yasha, and Nott.</p>
<p>He sees Mollymauk, even though he’s never met the man in his life. The Tiefling looks at him with his read, dead eyes and Caduceus <em>can’t be another Molly. </em>Can’t die and leave his friends behind, to deal with the grief, even if it means disturbing the natural balance of the world.</p>
<p>‘<em>MINE’ </em>Uk’otoa whispers in his mind and Melora’s garden vanishes before Caduceus can do anything else.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>“Maybe you should pray to him, Mr. Clay,” Nott says one morning when everyone else seems to still be asleep. Caduceus is weeding the grave-garden, tending to his teas and Nott, as usual, takes him by surprise. He jumps up a little, the fur on his back standing up for a second and he huffs out a snort.</p>
<p>“You keep scaring me,” he accuses her gently and then, when her words catch up to him, “What?”</p>
<p>“I said that maybe you should pray to Uk’otoa, Mr. Clay,” Nott repeats, so sure of her words that for a moment Caduceus thinks he might be still dreaming. Or perhaps he’s gotten himself stuck in a parallel dimension, where everything is reversed and it’s the Wildmother that’s a terrifying monster.</p>
<p>“Explain,” he whispers after a moment, when he has collected himself enough to dare to venture in his thoughts towards Uk’otoa, again.</p>
<p>“It’s not like with Fjord,” Nott says, plopping down on her butt and reaching out for Clay’s hand. “With Fjord, it was forced, yes? The more he wanted to defy him, the more Uk’otoa tried to keep him. But it’s different this time, no? He only comes when <em>you </em>call on him.”</p>
<p>Caduceus can’t breathe. Can’t face the blatant truth of it. Nott knows.</p>
<p>Nott knows of his betrayal.</p>
<p>He bends over the plants, pushes his face onto the ground and <em>keens, </em>low, sobbing, apologies to the Wildmother slur on his lips. He’s sorry. He’s so, so sorry.</p>
<p>Melora doesn’t listen, but Nott stays with him till he calms down.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Their peace doesn’t last. A month after they’ve bought the cabin, a messenger from The Gentleman comes with a job they can’t refuse. Firstly, because it’s common sense not to refuse a man like him and secondly because it’s slave traders that The Gentleman wants gone.</p>
<p>Jester’s smile fades when they learn that small detail and Fjord's eyes turn distant, a promise of violence brewing within him. But it’s Caleb who says that they need to do it, Caleb and Nott and Beau, who insist on <em>getting rid of the slavers. </em>There’s fire in them, fueled by grief and helplessness and pain. By <em>Mollymauk. </em></p>
<p>“Let’s do it,” Caduceus says, voice firm and no one tries to stop him from coming along.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>“Uk’otoa,” Caduceus calls out, loud, determined, as he looks over the thirty children that they’ve managed to get out of a burning building. Jester freezes next to him, exhausted and out of healing spells. Caduceus has used up every ounce of magic that Melora was still willing to bestow upon him and he feels it –</p>
<p>Knows it, that if he calls on another God, the Wildmother will let him go.</p>
<p>Completely.</p>
<p>But the children are innocent, did not deserve to be hurt by men in such a brutal, barbarian manner. So, there’s only one thing that he can do. He doesn’t close his eyes, doesn’t weaver in his conviction. Instead, he rises his staff up, up, towards the sky and prays.</p>
<p>“Uk’otoa, Master of the Saltwaters, hear my prayer.”</p>
<p>‘<em>MINE’ </em></p>
<p>“Yours.”</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>He feels power filling his body, cold and brutal as the waves of the sea. It rages within him, demands to be let out – and Caduceus channels as much of it as he can into his healing spells.</p>
<p>The water that falls from the sky tastes like salt.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>“Just to make it clear,” Beau says when they’re finally resting at an inn. “We can still totally learn how to kill a God.”</p>
<p>“Aa, that’s nice,” Caduceus smiles, he’s tired, exhausted even, but this time his smile is honest if not resigned. “That’s very kind of you to offer but I think it’s too late for that.”</p>
<p>“The Wildmother would take you back in a heartbeat,” Fjord pats his leg in assurance but Caduceus sees the truth in his eyes. Fjord knows what Caduceus has done, what Caduceus wants from Uk’otoa and <em>understands. </em>Better, perhaps, than the rest of the Nein.</p>
<p>“I know,” he whispers back, “but I don’t know if I can ever return.”</p>
<p>“We’ll stay with you the whole night,” Nott promises and holds her flask to him. Caduceus takes a deep breath but accepts the drink. He’d need all the courage he can get, tonight.</p>
<p>“If it’s any help,” Fjord winces at his own words, “he likes it when you submit?”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t sound nice.” He feels a shiver ran down his spine and he takes another gulp of the concoction that Nott keeps on hand. It’s probably the most bitter alcohol he’s ever had, but he’s not complaining.</p>
<p>“Here,” Caleb puts Frumpkin in his lap and then gently pushes on his shoulder to make him lay down on the bed. Caduceus moves willingly, though his breathing quickens as he settles and looks at the wooden ceiling.</p>
<p>“I’m going to be okay,” he tells himself.</p>
<p>“You’re going to be okay,” Caleb assures him.</p>
<p>The rest of the Nein make themselves comfortable around him.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>It’s not only the giant, yellow eye that seems to be closer to him, this time. It’s the whole presence of the God, that feels <em>bigger. Nearer. </em></p>
<p>Caduceus is floating in the dark nothingness that’s wet but isn’t water.</p>
<p>‘<em>MINE’ </em>Uk’otoa demands again, his voice booming in Caduceus’ mind.</p>
<p>“Yours,” he answers, heart beating faster and faster. “I’m yours.”</p>
<p>He closes his eyes, bites his lips, clenches his hands and waits, waits, waits. For Uk’otoa to do something, anything – to demand his loyalty, to force him into following some sick plan, to order him to kill innocents. But all that he gets is a distant feeling of <em>satisfaction. </em></p>
<p>Of <em>approval. </em></p>
<p>‘<strong><em>MINE</em></strong>’ Uk’otoa says, this time quieter, more reverently. And the not-water around Clay shifts just slightly, shadows of long black tendrils, incorporeal yet so, so real, move around him.</p>
<p>“Is there, ah, is there anything you require of me?” Caduceus asks, though his voice trembles and he can’t keep his eyes off the tentacle-like shadows that circle around him. He’s a shivering mess, anxious to get this meeting over with. To find out what’s the price for his friends’ lives and for the lives of the innocent children.</p>
<p>‘<strong><em>accept</em></strong><em>’ </em> </p>
<p>Before Caduceus has a moment to wonder what exactly he is to accept, one of the tendrils wraps around his left ankle, spooking him. He tries to jump instinctively, but in the non-water, it’s a rather tall order. He wants to shake the thing off of him, but also knows his new patron’s expectations. It’s hard to ignore his primal instincts, telling him to get away, screaming at him that he’s in mortal danger.</p>
<p>“A-alright, alright,” he mutters to himself. “It’s just a tentacle on your ankle, Clay. You’re fine. I’m fine.”</p>
<p>Just as he’s beginning to calm himself, lulled into a false sense of security by the tentacle’s stillness, it begins to move upward, slowly coiling itself around Clay’s calf, reaching under his knee. Caduceus whimpers wraps his arms around his body protectively.</p>
<p>‘<strong><em>ACCEPT</em>’</strong> Uk’otoa says again, then ‘<strong><em>MINE, ACCEPT’ </em></strong></p>
<p>There’s no choice, here, for Caduceus. As much as he’d like to pray to Melora, beg the Wildmother to save him from the clutches of the Great Leviathan, he can’t lie to himself. Even though he loves everything Melora represents, he can’t stand to protect the balance of the nature that his Goddess values over everything else. Not at the cost of his friends’ lives; his own life. Uk’otoa, for all his evil, is offering what Caduceus wants.</p>
<p>Power.</p>
<p>And power always has a price.</p>
<p>He takes a deep breath, trying to center himself, drawing on his experience of countless hours of meditation and gathers himself, his frayed courage. He relaxes, eventually, letting his arms down, straightening his leg so that the tendril has better access to his body.</p>
<p>“I accept,” he says, hoping that his voice is as steady as he wants it to be. “I accept you.”</p>
<p>Uk’otoa doesn’t respond verbally, but the darkness around him, the God’s presence, vibrates in contentment. He feels the Leviathan’s magic wash over him, feels the power that’s being promised and feels dizzy with it. Almost greedy for it. Yet, the tentacle slowly creeping upwards stops him before he can lose himself in the image of his might.</p>
<p>He’s powerless, compared to a God. He’s at the mercy of Uk’otoa.</p>
<p>“Oh,” all blood drains from Caduceus face when the tentacle wraps around his midsection and specifically, his crotch. It squeezes there, suggestively enough that even Caduceus can’t confuse it with anything else.</p>
<p>“<em>Oh,</em>” he repeats again, feeling the panic closing in on him. “Ah, is-is that, is that what you want from me?” His voice is small, even to his own, sensitive ears. He feels like a child having his innocence broken.</p>
<p>‘<strong><em>ACCEPT’ </em></strong>Uk’otoa confirms, the tendril tightening its hold.</p>
<p>Caduceus swallows the sudden surge of saliva, his previous lax posture gone, leaving his muscles stiff. He doesn’t want to allow Uk’otoa to use his body, doesn’t want to pay in this way – but at its core, it’s not different of what Melora asked of him, is it? Caduceus wants to cry for his beloved Mother. Wants to get back to treating his body like a temple, to meditating and doing yoga, to gently, lovingly explore his body on his own terms.</p>
<p>“Please,” he doesn’t really know what he’s begging for, mercy? Leniency? Uk’otoa isn’t merciful nor lenient. “P-pleas, ah, please go slow. I’ve never…”</p>
<p>Caduceus blinks back tears. He had expected to be ordered around, forced to commit murder or to gather some sort of arcana that would have made the Great Leviathan even stronger – but not <em>this. </em></p>
<p>The tentacle doesn’t go away, but it eases its hold on Caduceus most private parts. It’s gentler, too, when it begins to move, stimulating Caduceus through the fabric of his pants.</p>
<p>“A-ah,” there isn’t really much that Clay can say to that, so he closes his eyes and tries to take it. Tries not to think of how far Uk’otoa will allow the tendrils to go.</p>
<p>‘<strong>Accept’ </strong></p>
<p>This time the voice is less invasive, but at the same time, it feels much closer to him than before. The big, yellow eye, when Caduceus dares to look, is where it was from the beginning, yet he feels as if he’s being devoured by the God.</p>
<p>Somehow that sensation feels safer than the tendril moving over his crotch, massaging his slowly hardening virile member. The pleasure keeps building up, despite how tense and stressed Caduceus is; painstakingly slow, it starts to override his anxiety. His hindbrain recognizing a sexual act as something meant to happen, something <em>natural </em>that his body was made to do.</p>
<p>“Please,” Caduceus begs again, though, this time with the opposite intention behind it. It’s hard to keeps still and soon, he starts to squirm a bit, until he almost curls himself in order to deal with all the sensations.</p>
<p>His eyes are blown wide, breath uneven and hitching every time the tendril squeezes just the right place, at the right pressure.  </p>
<p>“Ah, a-ah I’m about to… Ah—”</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Caduceus wakes up wet with saltwater and painfully hard.</p>
<p>The Nein as are confused as Caduceus is <em>offended. </em></p>
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